Of Gryffindors & Ravenclaws
by MaySoFarAway
Summary: One-shot. Steve and Darcy have a fight. Personality types clash, and lessons are learned by all. Written for The DL Exchange!


((A one-shot written for enigma_eggroll, for the Darcy Lewis Exchange :D

Established relationship, and sometimes things aren't always roses. Sometimes, the person you dearly love can also annoy the hell out of you, even if they are Captain America. And so few fics depict how an actual fight goes between two people who love each other. Yeah you can be mad as hell, but then an hour or two later remember what a glorious, crazy stupidhead you're in love with. It's grand.

Has almost nothing to do with Harry Potter.))

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**Of Gryffindors & Ravenclaws**

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"You didn't listen to me!" Darcy's throwing up her hands, Fury's debriefing room on the helicarrier feeling a lot smaller, suddenly, to everyone else inside who isn't Steve Rogers and Darcy Lewis. Despite her lack of height (the SHIELD-issue boots can only do so much, when one is already rather tiny), Darcy's quite the contender in the staring contest going on between her and Captain America. Steve's glaring right back down at her though, the two of them somehow almost appearing to be nose to nose.

"I made a call!" He shoots right back, standing his ground, "He had his gun cocked, the hostage's life..."

"Was well in hand!" Darcy maintains, "I've studied this bastard's MO for THREE WEEKS Steve, he doesn't just KILL people before they've gotten a change to hear him rant...I mean Jesus, he was fuckin' soliloquizing! You NEVER stop 'em when they're soliloquizing! Now we still don't know where..."

"And if his HOSTAGE wasn't the person he was hoping would hear all that?" Steve asks her, stepping closer, his arms crossed across his chest, "If he thought they were disposable before he was done with his rant? What then?"

"Bucky had his orders, he'd have dropped him if things -actually- went south." Darcy's eyes narrow, "YOU told him to take the shot, to disregard MY intel..."

"Woah, woah, keep me outta this mom and dad," At his seat, James Barnes throws up his hands, and it's all Tony can do to keep his face straight, for a moment. Both Darcy and Steve spare Bucky a glare, before looking back to each other.

"I made the call, I give the orders, -I'm- team leader, -Agent-," And the minute it leaves his lips, Steve knows he's in for it, because Darcy's mouth goes hard and her eyes go wide, nostrils flaring.

"-Captain-, Agent," Nick Fury wisely chooses this moment to interrupt their...discussion. "Now that we know what the hell went down, maybe you'd like to, I don't know, take this little talk back to your own quarters?"

"Gladly," Darcy huffs, turning on her heel and leaving the room, and her fiance, behind in a bluster of epic proportions.

"Don't try Ken-Doll," Tony warns Steve, just as he turns to go, "You're close, but she's definitely got the strut to beat you in a storm-out competition."

"...Shut up, Tony," Cap growls, stomping through the doors.

"...I stand corrected." Iron Man sighs, affecting a courtly accent, "Tell everyone that when the day is out, we shall have a wedding. Or a hanging. Either way. Gonna be a lot of fun."

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"Seriously? You're admitting that you pulled -rank- on me?" Darcy's seething, whirling around as soon as they're in the soundproof, semi-comfort of their quarters on the carrier. Steve runs a gloved hand roughly over his face, before pausing, looking at the appendage in consternation, peeling off his gloves and tossing them in the corner.

"...Yes, all right?!" He admits, huffing, "I do out-rank you, and I made a call. I can't...can't treat you any differently, Darce, you know that, I responded how I would to...to any agent who's..." And this is about where his firm ground ends. Her brows knit, listening to him.

"Who's...?" She crosses her arms, standing by their bland, pale blue bed. The whole room is bland, as not much time is spent on the carrier, by anyone really. Not like their busy apartment in Brooklyn. The picture frame on the bed-table is at least telling, holding two pictures from their engagement party. One, a very nice posed photo of the two of them. The second, of Steve Rogers propping up both his drunken fiance on one arm, and drunken best man on the other, grinning wide and deliriously happy in-between. "Who's new in the field? You KNOW me Steve, you KNOW I'd studied the Baron for weeks, hell I brought my fucking intel to BED!"

"I can't treat you differently..." He means to repeat, but Darcy just growls.

"Bullshit," She hisses, "No, you shouldn't play any -favorites-. But I'm NOT like every other Agent on her first major assignment, Steve. You've seen me working my ass off, you KNOW I know what I'm talking about!" He sighs, dropping onto the bed and resting his head in his hands, voice rough and frustrated.

"The gun was cocked, Darcy." He falls back on, shaking his head, "One stupid twitch of his finger, and the civilian was dead. I HAD to make a call..."

"I MADE a call!" Darcy stubbornly stands by her argument, and to hell with anyone who has anything else to say, she thinks, "You didn't HAVE to do anything, except trust me! What the hell is a poli-sci major worth, if my knowledge on homicidal diplomats is disregarded out of hand because Cap doesn't wanna look like he's playing favorites?!"

"That's NOT why..." He growls, standing up, eyes flashing, before stopping himself, hands up in a blocking gesture, "...No, no I'm not going there. You coulda been Nick Fury himself, Darce, I woulda made the same order."

"Why?" Darcy's still glaring, nowhere near ready to let this go, "Because Captain America ALWAYS knows better than the rest of us?" He winces, shaking his head, but Darcy doesn't let up. That's not what she does, "He wasn't going to pull the fucking trigger. And if you'd just trusted me, we'd know where he's stock-piled his weapons. But no, no you know better, you -know- what some man, whom you haven't paid more than a passing glance at, over your girlfriend's stack of files, was gonna do. You ALWAYS know better..."

"STOP!" Steve shouts, stepping right up close to her again, glaring hard, "He had a GUN to a civilian's HEAD, Darcy!" He swallows, his hands twitching at his sides, as if he both wants to drag her close and yet won't dare touch her, not now, "It's a risk I wasn't fucking ready to take!"

She takes a step back, because he's never shouted at her like this, in her face, this angry. And though her strong front doesn't dare falter, Darcy remembers where he's coming from, knows she kinda dealt a low blow there. She still thinks that he -does- always have to be right. But more so, he can't abide letting innocent people get that close to death. It's who he is, who he's always been.

Of course, her pride is still smarting and she's nowhere near ready to admit that to him. So instead, like a mature, well-adjusted adult, Darcy throws up her hands, shaking her head.

"I need a drink," She grunts, turning on her heel and leaving the room. She's aware of a sharp curse behind her, something getting tossed across their room. But seriously, she needs that drink.

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Maybe he did always think he knew best. It wasn't the first time Steve had heard the accusation, not by a long shot, but it was the first time he'd heard it from Darcy. And on her first big mission, no less. It had taken Tony at least three outings, before he called Steve out on being a know-it-all boy scout who always disregarded the orders over the wire (never mind that Tony did the exact same goddamn thing, every mission). Darcy's tolerance was a lot lower, so it seemed. And after semi-accidentally breaking a mirror on the wall, Steve wonders if she's all that wrong.

It wouldn't have been favoring her opinion just to favor it. It would have been knowing that, of all people, he should be able to trust her assessment, engaged or not. He DID know she'd been possessively stalking their target for weeks, wanting to be thorough and leave a good impression with the brass, as a rookie analyst on her first important mission. He'd learned early on that her seeming flippancy about certain things was a front. Darcy didn't miss details, eyes glued to surveillance tapes and tabloids, building a vivid profile on the man, as SHIELD's investigations into his arms dealings went on. Director Fury had praised her work himself, putting her in as lead analyst when the Avengers finally stormed his bunker.

How did she not understand, though, that he had to do what he did? A gun cocking, pressed to an innocent's temple. Shouting over the coms to Bucky, drowning out her protests, and his best friend following his orders, because Captain America was the team leader.

It was what Steve did. Maybe that did make him a meat-head who reacted with his gut, but that was who he was, that was how he worked, reacted, acting when the little guy was threatened. Fighting off the bullies. In a world he was still trying to adjust to, that truth was what he held to, that you always fought off the bully. And if Darcy couldn't understand that, well...

...but then he groans, resting his elbows against the wall, as both of those truths meld in his head. It had been her -first- big mission, and he'd mucked it all up for her by being...well, himself. Her moment to shine, to show what she knew, she might've been exactly right and they'd not only have saved the civilian, but they'd have the Baron's secret hideaway too. And he'd have shown her that he believed in her.

All right, so maybe things got a bit clearer for him, then...

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"Self-righteous ass," Darcy grumbles, popping open another beer and flopping into one of the deep chairs in the caf. Across from her, Coulson just smirks, shaking his head.

"You knew that when you agreed to marry him," The agent reminds her, steadily, his feet on the table, tie just barely loosened, shiny shoes crossed. It's as relaxed as most of them ever see Phil Coulson. Darcy snorts, rolling her eyes, mimicking the position, her boots crossed at her ankles. "It's in the Captain's nature. Act first, listen to the voices on the line later. Not that he isn't intuitive himself, of course, just...it's on a different frequency, than your own. You knew this, too."

"Ugh, I did. I did," Darcy wrinkles her nose, tossing back a long swig of her Stella, "I just. I thought he'd at least fucking listen to me after watching me bust my ass for weeks over this mission!" She pauses, waiting for Phil to point out something deeply enlightening. Because that's what her mentor and former handler did, he told her when she was being a petulant teenager. But this time, the man just raises a brow, as if waiting for Darcy to come to the next conclusion herself, knowing she already had it in her. Well, damn Phil Coulson too, Darcy thinks. "...All right, so maybe that still doesn't change the fact that he thinks and acts in the moment."

"Exactly," Phil reaches for his own beer, rolling his shoulders a few times, clearly glad to be in off-duty mode for the moment, "It's reflexive, three years with you haven't changed his instincts. And he's going to be getting official heat over it. He blew our chance at finding out where the Baron's stash was, you're not the only one unhappy about that," The Agent tilts his head her way, "So, you can keep punishing a man who's already going to be catching fire for his actions. Or...not."

Darcy grumbles again, something noncommittal. Coulson shrugs.

"Not that I blame you," He maintains, "As I've observed, a woman can only let up so much, even at SHIELD, where we have a woman as second in command." Now Phil's voice finally eases up to match his propped-up feet, looking at her like a friend again, her mentor, "You can't let anyone think they can walk all over you, you just finished training, and I understand all that. I understand that you feel the need to score a ten on your first assignment. But..." At this, Phil licks her lips, thoughtfully, "...Just like he should perhaps trust you a bit more, as he knows you through and through, perhaps you should cut him more slack than you'd cut, say, the breed of random sexist grunt in the offices that I am so often reprimanding? You know how Steve Rogers is, too."

At that, Darcy sighs, nodding. Steve has always been exasperating, it's true, even when she was first love-struck and not always noticing the faults, just the sad edges that needed a tender touch. She'd known he was a stubborn, white-knight in the field, everyone complained about it. But she was stubborn too, and childish at her worst. "...I don't want him to feel like he can boss me around, I guess, that's a thing too," She sips her beer more slowly now, under Coulson's fixed gaze, "...Ugh, he's just...such a chore sometimes Phil, I swear...but so am I..." At that, Coulson smiles, shrugging.

"So are most people. The difference is, you are vowing to actually communicate with, and try to understand this particular chore, for the rest of your life." He reminds her.

"Point," Darcy sighs, smirking. "The hell was -I- thinking, yeah?"

"I'm sure my wife asks herself the same question, every time I'm gone for days without a word."

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They return to the tower within a few hours, and the next time Steve and Darcy see each other is when they're finally, separately released to go home. There's just the motorcycle waiting for them, and after a tense look shared, Darcy just smirks, "All right soldier, I'm gonna put my arms around you, but you better not get any ideas." Steve can't help that his lips twitch in response. In the middle of a paused, tense fight or not, she was good at that.

She breezes into their apartment in Brooklyn ahead of him, maybe just a little vindicated after having heard him, through the office walls, get chewed out by Fury. But to her credit, Darcy doesn't bring that up, hoisting herself up onto the kitchen counter to sit, as she often does, and watching Steve carefully, as he shucks off his leather jacket. "...I know you were just doing what you thought you had to do..." She sighs, at length, but he's shaking his head, pressing his lips together.

"I acted on impulse, you mean." Steve replies, looking up at her. "Like I always do...I'm sorry I questioned your analysis. I didn't...mean to make it seem like I didn't trust you, it just..."

"It's what you do," Darcy kicks her feet back and forth a few times, "You act with your chest instead of your head, sometimes," She narrows her eyes, "I get it. Doesn't mean my Ravenclaw brain approves." That earns her the perplexed frown she loves so much. "...You really need to read those books, hun." She tries to fight it, but no, that little, touched smirk appears on her full lips, "...I thought for sure -I'd- be the first one to apologize, for being a stubborn, oversensitive jerk..."

He's in front of her in a moment, resting both hands on her waist, looking her in the eye, as she's at his level at this perch. She'd learned that within five minutes of them moving into the place, which is why it's such a favorite of hers, "You did an amazing job," he tells her, steadily, "I, I was real impressed, how you did all your homework, and...and I'm sure I've pissed off plenty of other analysts before you by going off grid, I didn't mean..."

"Oh, hush," Darcy groans, reaching out and wrapping her arms around his neck, yanking him in for a good and hearty kiss. "Why, why, WHY are all your WORST traits tied up with being too GOOD?" She sighs, between kisses, and nipping his ear on the last word, "I mean, it's still annoying as hell, but, you just...fuckin' want people to be safe, not bullied around, civies didn't ask for this shit and you know that..."

"Naw, it's fulla myself and stupid," Steve murmurs, cradling her face in his hands, resting his forehead against hers.

"The man's dead..."

"And we still don't know where his weapons are hidden."

"Well, no, but at least I'm now 'one of the guys', among the analysts," Darcy smirks, brushing his hair back from his forehead, "Check by my name, having Captain America or Tony Stark disregard my advisories," She licks her lips, "I really am sorry, I hit below the belt back there on the carrier..."

"You'd be the one to know where to hit," Steve smirks, dipping to kiss her again. And hey, maybe having his girlfriend among the analysts did really alter things for him, because he tells her, "I can change..." At that, though, she laughs.

"No, no never change," She murmurs, fingers splaying around his ears, "Well...work on listening to good advice, maybe, but never -change-," Darcy whispers, lips brushing his gently, sweetly, "You're Captain America. Cap rushes in, he saves the day," She murmurs, kissing him again, "Work on listening to the intel, but don't you dare ever change...and I can try not to be a fuckin' baby about it."

"Long as you keep yellin' at me," He rumbles right back, hands on her hips now, gripping at the jeans she'd changed into at the Tower, out of her SHIELD uniform, "...Hell, Darcy I don't know what I'd be doing right now, without you," Steve suddenly groans, his lips going to her neck, and she finds her breath hitching, "I can't...there's so much I can't stand, can't deal with, but then you're there, and if I ever push you away I don't, don't know what I'd do..."

"Shhh," She swallows, wrapping her arms around him tight, as it becomes clear just how much a single fight has shaken up his perceptions. They'd had plenty of spats or arguments in three years, obviously, but this was the first time things had gotten a little dirty and personal. Darcy buries her face against his shoulder, shaking her head, "Was just a fight, jerkwad," She manages a wavering grin, "We can get past a fight...yeah?" Not that Darcy's ever been one to get past a fight in her past relationships, mind. Being slighted or dissed had always made her build up indignant, blissfully justified rage in the past, an excuse to vent her spleen or to break something off without guilt. It isn't like that with her husband-to-be, though. Which was probably one of the reasons he'd become such. Darcy wanted more, wanted to -be- more, with him.

"Always," Cap murmurs, catching her lips again, kissing her long and slow, hands sliding up and down her sides. "I'm sorry," He whispers again, direct and looking her in the eye this time, "I was an ass who was sure he knew better, and I'm sorry."

"Accepted," Darcy licks her full lips, "...And I was an indignant bitch with a smart-ass mouth who didn't take into account the way you handle things. I'm sorry." Their pre-marriage counselor would be so proud, if she could see Darcy and her stubborn butt now. As it is, Steve just grins, shaking his head.

"I love your smart-ass mouth," He murmurs, kissing her.

"And I love the way you white-knight, like a champ," Darcy murmurs right back, biting his lip. "...And knowing Fury's gonna be riding your ass 'til tuesday is kind of vindicating too, not gonna lie." That earns her a laugh, as he lifts her up off the kitchen counter, capturing her lips again. Darcy's been with him a while now, but it doesn't make the fact that he can carry her to the bedroom with ease any less novel.

"I'll get better hun, I swear I will," He tells her.

"I think that's just being married, y'big lug. Getting better. Now, gimme somma that make-up sexin'."

"Yes 'mam."


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